Airmail

I graze on a field of gazes aimed at countless suns--suns plastered on a stark white sky. Everyone was drinking their beer, spitting their brains, showing off their coats. All I was looking for was a shade from this web of lights and sounds, away from everyone.

1. Our differences are a series of en and em dashes. The break in each punctuates a disagreement, although rarely.

2. Like arrows, self-pity poured on me, shot past me, and at that moment I was reluctant to stay. Doubts fired second, and I thought, perhaps. My legs are too short to run away quickly. 

3. I was running out of solutions to conceal my thoughts. I was opalescent, then translucent, until I was as insubstantial as a glimmer of light.